


Heat Wave

by DestinyFreeReally



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyFreeReally/pseuds/DestinyFreeReally
Summary: Temperatures skyrocket in NYC, and Frank and Karen try to stay cool despite the city boiling over.





	1. Chapter 1

    Sun beating down on her from between the skyscrapers, Karen thought she could feel the soles of her shoes melting against the city pavement on her walk from the subway. It was the third day of triple-digit-heat in the beginning of August, and the heatwave had the city steaming. Murders, shootings, violent crime rates were way up, and short tempers were running hot in the oppressive, muggy, summer sweat-out.   
  
    Finally letting herself into her apartment, Karen kicked off her long skirt and peeled off her blouse, trading her work attire for a white camisole and pajama shorts, feeling cooler already. When she signed her lease and her landlord bragged about her apartment coming with an ice maker, Karen never foresaw herself really looking forward to that particular perk, but she happily emptied cubes into a cool glass of water and tried to pretend her building’s AC was anything to brag about.   
  
    Her phone buzzed a call from a blocked number, and Karen hoped she wouldn’t have to put her work clothes back on. She'd promised herself she'd sleep this weekend, really sleep.   
  
    “This is Page,” she answered, tucking the phone between her chin and shoulder while she tied her hair up into a loose bun.    
  
    “Karen?”    
  
   She recognized the voice instantly, “Frank.” A tiny smile played at her lips, even though she knew he was probably calling with bad news. “Are you alright?”   
  
   “Don’t worry about me, I wanted to make sure you got home okay tonight. Are you… in for the night?” Frank shrugged through the burner phone, knowing he was maybe stepping on plans between Karen and Red. Just because the city was on high alert, Frank knew Karen Page’s life didn’t stop for upticks in crime. Fuck, her life probably got more busy. Plus, a summer Friday night, he didn’t know why he’d expect her to be home and-   
  
    “My social calendar’s gone quiet,” she held the glass of water to her forehead, closing her eyes as their call went quiet, too. “And I only brought some light work home. Is there… something you needed?” She prompted, familiar with the cryptic speak of New York vigilantes. If he wasn’t calling with bad news, then he probably needed a favor.   
  
    “Maybe. I’ll stop by tonight if it’s alright?”    
  
    Karen took a sip from her glass and decoded Frank’s message.  _ If you’ll be home alone, if you’re not busy, if you trust me,  _ if it’s alright. “It’s alright,” she granted, and rolled her eyes at herself. She had been hoping to catch up on sleep this weekend, and a late-night visit from the Punisher promised she would be up late again.    
  
    “Okay, I’ll see you later, Karen,” Frank spotted his mark, his last errand before stopping at Karen’s place. “I gotta go,” he said, keeping an eye on the man.    
  
    “Stay cool out there, Frank,” Karen teased, and thought she heard a chuckle from the other side right before the line went dead. 


	2. Chapter 2

     Somewhere in-between  _not_  waiting up for Frank Castle, and definitely trying to stay cool, Karen had dozed off on the tile of her kitchen floor, only woken by the soft click of her apartment door on Frank's way in. Finally.   
  
     "You really shouldn't just leave the door open in this neighborhood," Frank shook his head, keeping his voice low, and found her on the floor. "You... alright?" The heat was getting to the whole city, but Frank was sure he'd never seen Karen sweat. Even that time he'd been shooting  _around_ her.   
  
      "Our dog used to do this during the summer, spread out on the kitchen tile cause it was the coolest part of the house. How on  _Earth_ are you still wearing that vest?"   
  
     From the limited experience she had with kevlar, Karen didn't remember it as a breathable fabric.   
  
     Shrugging and conceding her point, Frank dragged the vest over his head and dropped it the floor by his discarded boots. There were damp outlines in his shirt, places where it was sweat-slick to his body. "Think I could grab a quick shower?"   
  
     Lifting herself off the floor, Karen nodded, "Talk after?"  
  
     "Talk after," Frank promised, almost flashing her a grin.   
  
     The shower ran for seven minutes, almost to the second, and then Frank Castle emerged from the bathroom in only a sweat-stained wife-beater and jeans, hair wet and curlier than Karen had seen it before.   
  
     "Better?" She cleared her throat. Frank's exposed skin told more of his story than his mouth ever did- his tattoos, his scars; the bruises and scrapes that were still fresh from fights earlier in the day.   
  
     "Yeah, actually," he took the cold beer from her outstretched hand. "Thanks," he added, and took the seat across from her.  
  
     Normally with Frank, situations were urgent, bullets were flying, curses were spilling from his lips... It was odd to see him slow; drinking a beer at her coffee table with most of his battle armor discarded.   
  
     "Tough day at the office?" Karen winced, eyeing a bruise that was only starting to purple around Frank's shoulder.   
  
      He just shrugged; bruises healed.   
  
     "It used to get hot middle-of-nowhere-istan. Heat like that, out there, when you're not local and you start missing home... the desert grinds down your bones," Frank cleared his throat. He didn't come to spit war stories across Karen Page's coffee table, but every once in awhile she had a way of getting him to want to talk. Really talk, casually, with a beer in his hand and his boots off. With the rest of the city, the rest of the world, he could wear a vest and be the Punisher, but Karen kept wanting to talk to Frank Castle, the man. He had a hard time refusing her.   
  
     "Here it just sticks to you," Karen sipped from her own beer, and swallowed her last bits of liquid courage. She knew what was up the minute he called; she'd had the feeling for weeks, his call only confirmed some of her worst fears. "I know what you're here to talk about." She leaned her chin against her knuckles, like somehow they were supposed to be sharing a secret that the whole city knew. "And it's not about how hot it gets in JBad."   
  
     "Really? They teach you to read minds at the newspaper now?" Frank teased; he could always believe she was a step ahead. Probably several.   
  
      "Just something I've picked up on the side," she sobered, unable to forget what they were talking about any longer. "The city's on fire and stir-crazy," Karen let her mind get pulled from Frank Castle at her coffee table, relaxing. "But crime-rates are also soaring because..." she lost her voice.  
  
     "Because the devil's left Hell's Kitchen," Frank finished for her, and watched emotion play on her features. Smart as a whip, cutting as a rose, and with the empathy of ten people... to the naked eye, and her chin dropped a centimeter.  
  
     "I... don't know that it's my place to go looking for Matt; we... ended our thing pretty badly," Karen understated, glossing over her dating history with a masked vigilante.   
  
    "Worse than how we  _ended_ our thing?" Frank's face dropped at the false equivalence. "Friendship thing," he relaxed when Karen's face went teasing.   
  
     "I thought I didn't want to see you again, and I thought you were going to get yourself killed." Karen sat straighter, "Which I guess isn't all that different from how it ended with Matt... I guess you're just harder to get rid of?"  _Or he just really wanted to be around,_ Karen shook the thought away, feeling like she was being unfair to Matt somehow.   
  
     "I think we should find him," Frank continued his line of thought, "Something feels wrong in the city." It wasn't the number of thugs and wrong-doers, bad people looking to do bad things were always in supply. But the streets felt different, felt wilder somehow. Like the whole place was off-kilter without the big red Catholic patrolling it's quarters.   
  
     "You don't like having the monopoly on face-punching?" Karen asked, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.   
  
     Frank shrugged, "This city has a lot of faces."  
  
     With a nod and an eyeroll, Karen agreed. "I'll call Foggy in the morning, see what's up. Are you staying here tonight?" It was just a question, just an easy floating invitation. Things between them didn't need to be complicated than him showering and napping on her couch during a heat wave.   
  
     "I could be persuaded, as long as I don't have to sleep on the tile," he teased her again, and they both chalked it up to the beer.   
  
     "The tile's all mine, it's still the coolest place I've found all day," Karen shook her head. Vigilantes, heat waves, face-punching. Those were just her extracurriculars. 


End file.
